


One Last Time

by MysteryPines



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27737644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteryPines/pseuds/MysteryPines
Relationships: Chris Redfield/Albert Wesker
Kudos: 17





	One Last Time

Chris Redfield's exasperated sigh reverberated betwixt the silence of the Medical Storage room. Stiff fingers paused over the keys of the old typewriter after having put in a paragraph and a half on a crisp white sheet. Paperwork was never his favorite activity to do as a cop. There was nothing exciting about it. Putting his skills to use out in the field was better than having to write a paper his Captain would only rebuke and force him to redo anyways. But after the few hours spent that night surviving the horrors of the Spencer Mansion Chris needed an outlet. To get his thoughts together, to make some sense of the situation.

As much as Chris wanted to get back out there in search for his teammates writing down observations he's noticed about the zombies before heading out seemed beneficial to the situation at hand. Someone else may find this room and put what he's learned to good use.

Chris contemplated over how to describe what next on his mind. He's detailed Alpha Team's deployment in the first paragraph; Brad abandoning them, saving Jill from necrosis ridden canines, Wesker saving _him_ from the necrosis ridden canines, and everything that happened after he got separated from the Captain Wesker, Jill, and Barry. There were very little clues on their whereabouts in the areas Chris has explored so far. 

As he got halfway detailing the zombie's notable quirks in the second paragraph Chris heard a noise outside the Medical Storage Room. Stiffening, his fingers paused over the keys of the type writer. The sound of footsteps resonated throughout the empty hallways that _should_ have remained empty.

Adrenaline spike in his systems directing him to turn and steady his shotgun on the back of his chair without a thought. Locked, loaded and aiming directly at the door he was ready for whomever an enemy desired entrance to his safe room. 

The footsteps were too heavy to be a zombie's (certainly too heavy to be Jill's or even Barry's). Too sure of their environment, moving frequently with confidence. Nothing like the mindless almost gentle shambling from the Spencer Mansion's former occupants. 

Chris's heart seemed to pound in rhythm with the footsteps as they got closer. His mouth felt of cotton as his hand ever so slightly shook the barrel of the shotgun. The S.T.A.R.S. member breathed deeply in attempt to calm this trigger finger lest he fire too soon. The sound of the door knob being gripped and twisted confirmed the fact it was definitely not a wandering zombie. And the young soldier didn't know which fact would have been better or worse.

The door creaked as it opened. Chris held his breath.

A figure in a uniform stood observing in the doorway. Tall, intimidating, and fierce looking. Chris would have pressed down on the trigger if it were for one thing about the enemy.

"Wesker!" he cried, surprised yet relieved.

"Chris," Captain Wesker closes the door as he fully enters the room. He said pleasantly, "it's nice to see you in one piece." 

"Thanks," Chris sets the shotgun aside. "Sorry about the shotgun to the face. I thought you were a hostile."

"Noted," said Wesker, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He looked around the room as he continued, "the occupants do adhere to unpredictable behaviors. It is only logical to be weary."

And weary Chris was as his Captain creeped closer. He looked prepared to say something else only to restrain himself. Then next thing he knew Wesker snatched his paper from the type writer. Behind those highly unnecessary sunglasses ice blue irises scanned the paper; shaking his head with a low hum with any and all flaws he found in the paper's contents. Wesker scowls the typos and misused wording like he'd expected it but still disappointed to see it. Chris could feel his face grow hot through his frown. Tempted to sass his captain for the contemptuous critic he is, snatch the paper back or something. He held himself and his tongue back, however. This was not the time or the place to be picking a fight with his superior.

The Captain, crooked smile in front of a throaty chuckle, quoted, "'Wouldn't be surprised to find Barry stuck in a tree to get an vantage point.'" from the paper he handed back to his sub-ordinate. "We're never letting _that_ go are we?"

"Barry's since joined in on the fun to save himself any pain," Chris found himself smiling back, briefly. Then he abruptly stood from his seat in alarm, "Wait, Wesker, where's Jill and Barry? Are they alright? Did you find anybody from Bravo Team? "

"Calm down, Chris," Wesker gently places his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I sent them to investigate a mysterious gunshot from the dining room. I thought I'd make better use of my time by searching for you." The statement eased Chris' worries about his teammates. "However," the Captain grew hesitant-causing something to fall into Chris's stomach uncomfortably ball up and twist, "the situation is much worse than I thought." He turns away from his subordinate to sit on the mattress. His sunglasses come off revealing a distant look in his eye. "I managed to find information about the mansion's inhabitants. This _outbreak_ originated from a deadly virus that infects everything living thing it touches, even plant life to some extent. The chances of us surviving are significantly inferior to the most likely outcome."

Chris was stunned at how easily the Captain was giving in to the situation. Albert Wesker never, ever, gives up on anything. Seeing this in the residence where evil lurks is surreal at best and devastating at worst.

"Captain, don't say that!" Chris joins Wesker on the bed. "We've gotten out of other dangerous situations before. We'll get out of this one too! We can't give up now."

"I appreciate your encouragement," his unusually soft tone did nothing to quell Chris's concern. "But it doesn't deter my fears that this-this very meeting here-would and could be our very last."

The silence hung heavily in the air. Somber and contemplative.

"Chris," Wesker breathed, heavy and hiding something beneath his tone. "We have all night to finish the mission. And, if you don't mind," the Captain rests a hand slightly above Chris's knee, "I'd like for us to make our last moments together as memorable as possible."

Chris's face grew hot at the Captain's implications. A conflict of piqued anticipation and bewildered hesitation collided uncomfortably inside his chest. Unsure of what to say or do as the older man's hand crept further up his thigh and a firm kiss was placed briefly upon his lips.

"What do you say, Chris?" Wesker stared deeply into grayish blue eyes, expecting a pleasing response. "It's alright. It will be just like at the precinct break room on our bunk bed. Nobody will disturb us and we'll make it quick but satisfying."

The S.T.A.R.S. soldier's heart rate increased at the promise. His breathing was noticeably faster as the desire for his Captain's touch festered within the pit of his stomach. Mouth dry once more, but this time in excitement.

Chris thought about it far longer than Wesker would've liked it. A whole patience minute passes until Chris gets up and heads towards the door. Wesker was practically stunned into silence at his subordinate's actions-only for relief to wash over him when the brunette pushes the chair under the doorknob. 

Looking back, Chris grins deviously, "Had you going there, did I?"

Standing up, he sneers, "Why don't you come back here and find out?"

"Gladly," Chris crossed the room to pull his superior into a passionate kiss. 

It wasn't long before their gear was removed and scattered beside the bed. Strong, slender hands roamed up and down the younger's body sending pleasant shivers and desire through both of them. Chris threaded his fingers through the slicked back blonde hair, moaning as his mouth was invaded and lavished. Yet he wasn't going down without _some_ resistance as he went into a futile war for dominance.

Chris attempted to undo the button down shirt in front of him with fumbling hands until Wesker took over. A hand untangled itself from blonde hair to slide the blue shirt off the older man's shoulders. The S.T.A.R.S Captain's arms slithered around Chris's waist like a serpent trapping it's prey. Wesker pulls back to remove the obstructing green shirt before diving back in to the kiss. 

They stayed connected as they turned and spread themselves across the mattress, messing up the sheets in the process. Lips separating once more the Captain took the liberty of removing the rest of their garments with speed much too fast for Chris's lust hazed brain to follow. A small bottle was taken out of one of the pants pockets and at first Chris thought that it was lube until he realizes it was the oil Wesker always kept on his person. The S.T.A.R.S member wanted to make a remark about the Captain's chronic dry skin working to their advantage however his train of thought came to a grinding halt as soon as he felt those slick fingers found his entrance. Wesker didn't waste any time teasing him this time around as he prepared the man beneath him. Chris gasps and moans, mainly from the suddenness of the intruding fingers scissoring him as well as the spikes of pleasure that had him bucking his hips to the well timed thrusts of the hand.

When deemed ready Wesker oiled himself up, already hard from the erotic display of Chris squirming and writhing from his touch. So willing in the moment yet full of denial outside of it. 

Chris mentally reminded himself to relax as he felt the burning sensation from being entered. Clenching his jaw, he reached up to wrap his arms around Wesker's neck for stability. Despite having done this many times before the thrusts were cautious, experimental, as if consummating their relationship. 

Great care was taken as their movements elevated in time. Wesker placed his hands either side of the Chris' head to prop himself; in turn a pair of legs hooked around his waist to bring him closer. Chris rocked against Wesker, gasping and panting in pleasure but felt antsy from laying on his back. While feeling good he felt trapped underneath in near claustrophobia. Undoing his limbs from the older man Chris reached behind himself and pushed up forcing Wesker to sit back, and managed to do so all while staying in his Captain's lap. 

Chris latched himself onto the Captain as he received hard, steady thrusts that had his mind swimming in a sea of euphoria enhanced by his release from entrapment. An amused Wesker chuckled huskily into the younger man's ear, "Stubborn one, aren't you?" sending shivers down his spine.

"Ah-it's just not in me, Captain."

Wesker smirks at the irony from his oblivious little soldier.

"Maybe this will suit your fancy?" says Wesker as he lies down completely, hands gripping tightly onto Chris's hips. The new angle had Chris nearly shouting from the stimulation. For confirmation Chris could only spare a single nod almost indistinguishable from his bouncing.

Their pacing eventually became faster, much more erratic. Perspiration thinly coated his skin as his body temperature rose with every thrust responded by a roll of his hips. The young S.T.A.R.S. panted heavily, struggling to gulp down air cooler then his lungs currently were by default.

The end drew near like a finished line at the end of a marathon. Chris couldn't hold himself up any longer and collapsed against Wesker's chest as the Captain planted his feet on the mattress allowing him to thrust even harder.

Wesker grabbed a fist full of brown hair and pulled just enough to see Chris's face. They were so close they shared breath and their noses rested against the other as if in mid eskimo. The sight of him dazed with his silvery blues rolled into the back of his head nearly had Wesker then and there. However, there is one thing he needed from Chris. Just one little thing he wanted before he's brought to completion.

"Say my name, Chris," Wesker grunts.

"Wesker...Wesker,,," Premature shockwaves radiated throughout Chris's body from the hair follicles on his head to the tips of his toes. A precursor for the main course that began to wrack his systems causing him to spasm. "Albert!" whimpers Chris.

That did it for him. Wesker let the locks go as he buried himself deep inside of his subordinate, groaning in his release.

A few moments of basking in afterglow, and catching their breaths, Wesker sat them both up in bed. He looks up at the inch Chris has on him while in his lap. Chris witnesses a gentle touch to Wesker's sky blue eyes. An almost foreign sight that both melted the young man's heart and tightened it in unease. The genuine unnatural affection as their lips brushed against each other felt more like there was a purpose to it then just the need for skin contact. 

But that's just it, isn't it? The fact that Wesker, Captain Albert "Stick-In-The-Mud" Wesker, _needs_ to touch him. To continuously connect to him as if one of them would disappear if he didn't. He didn't hold anything back, he never stopped.

The kissing, god the kissing, it felt good and yet simultaneously it felt wrong. 

Because despite everything, despite the rough caresses that are goading him into a round two. Despite the amount of passion Albert is putting into on this night, even more so than the other times. Wesker held himself with certainty and dignity. The _worry_ he displayed earlier was completely gone from his actions. Passion and confidence are all that remain.

And in Chris's opinion, that wasn't a good thing.


End file.
